


Five Times Frigg and Pythios Punched Each Other and One Time They Made Out Instead

by Mitsuhachi



Series: Jager OC Hell [5]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Frigg no, M/M, Pythios is v pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuhachi/pseuds/Mitsuhachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frigg and Pythios' relationship in moments, from human cadets to castle wulfenbach</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Frigg and Pythios Punched Each Other and One Time They Made Out Instead

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Mirrors for a great deal of help and also letting me borrow her OCs mirrors and pythios, as well as to Adiduck for helping me write Rada. You guys are lovely, ty both.

One

Frigg watched the pretty greek kid stalk off the practice field with an open grin, waited for a full count of five before slipping off after him. He rounded the corner of the old armory with his most obnoxious swagger and leaned up against the wall to watch the kid stick his whole head under the water pump. The kid’s long hair was sticking in wet loops to his face, and there was still a splash of mud splattered along the long tendon of his neck.

“You knew the mud was there,” Frigg said, quite reasonably he felt.

The kid made a contemptuous little huff. “Hy vas hardly goink to let hyu get avay, hyu vere peened und hyu know eet,” he snarked, almost incomprehensible between two accents. Thats what you got, learning Romanian from a jagermonster. Frigg let his grin stretch wider.

“It was a good roll, I’ll give you that! I mean, I’ve had better but everyone does the best they can. You tried really hard after all. And if I’m going to end up on the bottom, that's a pretty good way for it to go.” Okay no, Frigg was openly laughing at him now. “Usually I like my partners a little cleaner though. ‘Eau de mud puddle’ isn’t exactly my type.”

“Hy em gorgeous no metter vhat hy em in.” It was true. The kid sneered. “Ve throw hyu in der puddle und ve see how preety hyu iz!”

Frigg leaned down to get right up in the pretty bastard’s face. “I’d very much like to see you try,” he whispered a scant breath away from the bastard’s lips, and then he pulled back and winked as suggestively as he knew how.

He couldn’t say he’d exactly expected the greek kid to grab ahold of his collar and use the grip to throw him down into the little puddle left by the water-pump. But, he thought as the kid knelt over his hips to aim a punch right at his cheekbone that flooded his mouth with blood and excitement, he sure wouldn’t say he was complaining either.

 

Two

Frigg woke up feeling like absolute warmed over death in a sack. There was an itchy sting all over his body that deepened into a really hideous burning throb in his arms and legs. His feet felt swollen and stretched like they might split open if he twitched them wrong. Everything smelled overwhelmingly of antiseptic and blood, and even through his eyelids the sunbeams were like ice picks. He dearly wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

Something moved far too close to him, a moving shadow blocking the sun and making the air shift weirdly over his skin. Frigg opened his eyes.

A pair of mismatched eyes peered at him from about four inches away. “Hallo,” the jager rumbled, displaying all his teeth. Frigg startled badly and managed to slice open the blanket over his feet when he jumped. Apparently he had sharp claws on his feet? Okay. The jager sat back against what was apparently a chair that had been dragged in from the bar and pushed up alongside Frigg’s cot. He wondered what he was doing here. Frigg blinked up at him still somewhat blearily.

“Hallo,” he said, trying not to get stuck on how his tongue felt heavier in his mouth and beautifully sensitive. “Hyu heff rilly beeg arms, hyu know dot? Like dem, velcome to der gun schow. Verra nize. Remind me to heet on hyu later, hokay? Dem mine legs rilly hurt.” He reached up to rub his eyes and almost poked them out. His fingers were now about twice as long as they used to be and tipped with wicked claws to boot, good to know. He very gingerly folded them up to pat at the blood welling up on his eyelid.

The jager was laughing at him. “Mine name iz Cezar, bot efferyvun calls me Mirrors, hyu might az vell call me dot too. Dey tell me hyu survived tekink der brau, und zo hyu needs sumvun to teach hyu how dis all vorks.” The jager paused. “Vell done on dot, by der vay.”

“Tenk hyu. Hy guess dey already told hyu hy am Frigg. Iz not Enosh, nobody calls me dot, iz schtupid.” Frigg looked around. There was Mazonn in the corner, and it looked like Costi made it too, but where was…

Oh, that little shit.

Frigg swung his legs down off the cot and tried to stand. Wow, that was a lot harder than expected. He bent his knees a little more and leaned forward over them. Better, a little. He took a step and didn’t immediately fall on his ass. Victory! He tried another wobbly step away from the cot and his ankle twisted weird, skidded out from under him, and Frigg was falling--

No, Frigg was draped over one big arm like he weighed nothing, three feet away from the floor. “Hoy dere, vhere hyu tink hyu iz goink keed?”

Frigg turned to flash Mirrors an annoyed look over his shoulder. “If hyu tink hy em goink to lay around in bed vhile dot azzhole iz already op hyu iz dreamink.”

Mirrors looked confused.

“Pythios! He iz probably already laughing at me for tekink dis long! Hy heff to get op!”

Ok, now Mirrors was exchanging weird little sideways looks with Mamma, this was not of the good. Frigg flailed around until he was facing up at least, and Mirrors very kindly dropped him back on the cot.

“Hyu friend iz not op,” Mamma said, giving Frigg a concerned look that made his pulse spike. “Der Stephanidos boy iz schtill mit der Heterodyne. De change vas...unusual mit him, und Saturnus took a special eenterest. Hy dun know if he vill survive or not, yet. Iz schtill touch und go, az hy underschtand.”

Frigg felt like his brain was full of static. “Vhat?”

Mirrors laid a big hand on his shoulder. “Der Master iz a schmott boy, hyu friend vill be hokay, hyu see. Let’s get hyu valking vhile ve vait, ja?”

“Ja, hokay,” Frigg heard himself saying. Work was good. He had a job to do right now, showing up poncy assholes who couldn’t even change properly could wait.

*****

Two weeks later Frigg was loping back into the underground infirmary. Two weeks! He strode through the bar, dodging a flying bottle and only wobbling a very little bit. He strode down the hallway past the handful of medics going back and forth. He strode into the fuckawful little room they kept the new jagers in, with its clawmarks on the walls that Frigg had been heartily sick of by the second day and its row of now mostly empty cots. He strode up to the one occupied cot back by the wall.

And then he punched the asshole lazing there right in the too-pretty jaw. Frigg’s knuckles hurt from hyperextending them and he didn’t even care.

“HYU TOLT HYU HYU COULD DIE?” He bellowed. God, the bastard was even prettier now, light green like new leaves and with eyes gone narrow and snake-slitted. Under the blanket his legs curled weirdly as he sat back and smirked.

“Hy’ll do vhat hy vant, hy dun need hyu permission,” Pythios taunted, rubbing the darkening spot on his jaw. Behind him Frigg could hear Mirrors sauntering through the door. Vaguely, he wondered where Pythios’ mentor was.

“Hyu iz a sheet who shouldn’t be allowed to mek decisions, is vhat hyu are,” Frigg grumbled, running his eyes over Pythios’s body. It really did bend weird, something wrong with the waist too. Was that an honest to God snake tail? Boiling skies, this bastard was ridiculous. Frigg wanted to pull the blanket back and look over every inch of the jerk’s body, make sure for himself that he actually was okay. “Also Master Saturnus vas locked avay mit hyu for two veeks. Dot iz not fair, vhat de hell, hy hate hyu,” he griped, not really paying attention. Behind him Mirrors sporfled.

Pythios smirked and stretched in a way that showed off really gorgeous abs. “Ho, ja,” he said, elaborately casual. “He had hiz hends all offer mine body, hy vas _verra grateful.”_

Frigg stared at him, breathless with fury. Pythios leered.

“Get up out of dot bed hright now!” Frigg bellowed, vaulting over the back of his chair. “Hy em goink to keel hyu und den ve see how he likes hyu skely lack ov un ass!”

An arm solid like a tree branch caught Frigg around the middle and hefted him up into the air. “'Hokay keed, hyu haff to vait till he iz better to fight heem. Und fuck heem. Mamma vill keel hyu.” Frigg howled, pure thwarted incoherent fury, and fought to be put down.

Mirrors bounced him into a more comfortable hold and gave Pythios a jaundiced look. “Hyu hed better get vell qvick, keed. He’s gon ecktually hurt himself like dis if hyu don’t.”

“Hy iz gon ecktually hurt hyu,” came a muffled grumble from Mirror’s armpit.

Pythios laughed.

 

Three

Frigg had been trying to enjoy his goddamned beer. If he couldn’t get anything interesting to do while the generals found something for everyone else’s squad to have fun with then the least the universe could do was let him drink. Even the Damn Kids they were stuck with as masters couldn’t grudge him that, it wasn’t like they cared what anyone did. Frigg propped his feet up on the table and kicked his chair back on one leg precariously, wobbling in vague time to the music. This beer was piss. He tried balancing the stein on one outstretched finger. It splashed a little as he rocked.

Then it spilled all over his shirt as his chair was kicked out from under him.

“Vhat in der seffen leetle hellz?!” Frigg flailed his way untangled from upside-down chair legs and sodden shirt-sleeves and the jacket that had somehow ended up over his everloving head and peeked over the edge of the table.

At goddamned Pythios, sliding into the other chair at his table cool as you please, raising one elegant hand to get a waitress’ attention. “Velcome bek,” Frigg snarled, righting his chair and climbing up to sit properly this time.

Pythios smirked. Frigg tried to wring beer out of his shirt. “Hy like hyu new hat,” he said, watching Pythios’ eyes go narrow with offense. “Hyu tek eet off ein leetle old lady? Iz effen smoller den hyu lest vun, iz zo nize of hyu to let efferyvun know vhat dey iz gettink ahead of time.”

“Hy’ll show hyu vhat hyu iz gettink,” Pythios snarled. A sudden harsh tug around Frigg’s middle yanked him out of his chair and up over the table into punching range. The smooth muscle of Pythios’ coils wrapped him close and Frigg stretched out under them, darting out a tongue to lick blood off his split lip with a slow satisfied grin. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total waste after all!

He grabbed Pythios’ lapels to headbutt him in the teeth. “Hy missed hyu, azzhole.”

 

Four

“Hy bet hyu ken’t schteal der Sarge’s cigar,” Pythios said, looking consideringly over the crowd at the bar. “Hyu tink hyu iz preety fast, but hyu really really iz not.”

Frigg glanced at Pythios out of the corner of his eye. “Three shifts guard duty und hyu gud bottle ov scotch. Der really old schtuff hyu hez been hidink in hyu lockchest.”

Pythios made a face. “How do hyu effen know about dot schtuff, hyu goddamned schneak?” Frigg waggled his eyebrows and Pythios let out a little huff. “Fine, bot only coz hyu iz goink to die. Hy vill pour ein libation on hyur grave, on mine honor.”

Frigg rolled his eyes and got up. “Hyu gotz no honor, und now hyu iz gon heff no scotch eidder,” he said, and slipped into the crowd. He’d seen Sargent Radovana sitting at the bar not too long ago, chatting with Mamma and some big blue guy he didn’t recognize. He slunk along the wall, totally failing to look casual but succeeding very well at looking falling-down drunk. He scanned the tops of the crowd--bicorne, capotain, kepi...nurse’s cap. Wasn’t that the sarge’s friend? He pushed right through the crowd after her as she went outside.

The Sarge was sitting outside on the steps, leaning back pleasantly and enjoying the cool summer night, cigar burning slowly down to ash half-forgotten in her hand. Frigg crept closer, letting Mina’s slightly drink-unsteady footsteps mask his own. Sarge turned to say something to Mina that Frigg couldn’t hear. Frigg crouched, body coiled and waiting for his moment--

Sarge turned back away from the door and Frigg was sprinting, pushing his altered limbs for every ounce of speed he could wring out of them, breath burning in his lungs and heartbeat blocking out every sound, eyes squinting against the wind as he darted out one elongated hand to snatch the cigar out of her loose grip. Frigg curled his fingers around his prize and hit the ground hard, laughing hysterically and shouting wordlessly, joyful and victorious.

Then he got the boot to the head.

"Hyu two-bit hexcuse for a flyink bloody shit-fuck, hy iz gon mek hyu EAT dot cigar und den shove a HOZE OP HYU ARZE und blow eet beck out hyu NOZE!" The Sarge rolled him over and got his elbow in a lock. Frigg curled tighter, wrapping his whole body around the cigar trying to keep it away from her, still breathlessly cackling as she twisted him back.

Hey wait. His chest really did hurt, didn’t it, more than just the stitch in his side from how fast he’d pushed himself. He looked down. HOLY HELL his shirt was actually on fire. He flailed hard, trying to pat the smouldering patch out and play keep away for another few seconds with Sarge, but somehow that only made the flames spread and grow bigger. Sarge snatched back her cigar and Frigg didn’t even care, shit, shit this burned, his fur was burning, it smelled like dead polecat asshole, fuck.

Sarge planted a boot between his shoulderblades and flipped him over, dodging the wild flail of Frigg’s arms easily. Landing face down in the dirt put the fire out neatly. Frigg tried to slow his panic-quick breathing. He was okay. Damn his chest stung like a motherfucker. No, he was fine.

Up by the doorway someone was just about laughing themselves sick, and it was definitely too low to still be Mina.

Frigg dragged himself up to standing, trying to ignore the way his fur was all frazzled and sort of crunched whenever he moved. Pythios had to lean against the doorway to stay standing, holding his sides, and he was doubled over laughing in a way that wouldn't work for anyone with a proper spine. “Hyu face,” he hiccuped, “hyu didn’t effen realize until she vas already kickink hyu, schmott boy, vhen vere hyu goink to--” the punch was hard enough to knock the air right out of his lungs, low and then up under the ribs, savage and hard. Pythios gasped, tail lashing like he wanted to constrict, and glared up at him.

Frigg hauled him up and shoved him against the wall, slamming his head against it with a heavy thump. “Hy vin, hyu prick, pay op.”

Pythios’ eyes were narrow and hot. “Make me,” he hissed, long tongue flicking out snake-delicate to taste Frigg’s lips.

“Izn’t hyu boyz forgettink sumtink?” A suspiciously calm voice from behind Frigg’s back asked.

“Ho sheet,” they said in perfect sync as Sergeant Rada loomed beside them. It was already too late to duck, but to their credit they tried anyway.

 

  
Five

Frigg downed his drink without even tasting it and sighed. Five hundred brothers and sisters packed away in here like forgotten luggage no one even cared enough to steal, and the room still felt empty. Frigg fucking hated these airships. He wanted to jump out and set the whole place on fire on his way down. He wanted to be stationed anywhere but here, in this hall that wasn't the real jagerhall with this master who wasn't his real master, even if he knew perfectly well nowhere else would be better. He wanted to hit someone until he stopped hurting.

Across the table Pythios curled his hands around his stein with every sign of contentment, looking around at the crowd. Frigg felt something heavy and sick twist behind his ribs. “Are hyu sure hyu vant dot second beer?” He asked, all concern. “Eet ken be zo fattening, and hyu heff been, vell.” He looked away, just long enough to give the vague appearance of sparing Pythios’ feelings as Pythios narrowed his eyes at him. This was pretty mean, Frigg knew damn well this was going to stay with Pythios and that was not on. Didn’t stop him saying it though. “Dot iz a new shirt, isn’t it? Der looser cut iz verra forgivink, hy like eet.”

Pythios looked him over with a sneer, as though Frigg couldn’t tell when he’d hit a nerve by now. “Since vhen did hyu know ennyting about shirts, hyu kent effen unroll hyu sleeves.”

That was annoying, for sure. Frigg didn’t let himself get distracted though. He patted Pythios’ hand. “Hyu go ahead und have eet, hy ken look after mine own self.” He paused like he was carefully considering. “Doze Lackya guyz, dey iz not too bad if hyu like preety veaklings.”

“Ho dot iz eet,” Pythios was saying, smile finally falling off his face. He grabbed Frigg’s thigh with his tail and dragged him over by one leg to punch him right in the mouth. “Hyu shot op, hy iz ten times preetier and a hundret times deadlier den enny vun of doze poncy squirrels, fok hyu!”

Frigg spit a mouthful of blood and one narrow needle tooth into Pythios’ face and used his hold on Frigg’s thigh to shove a hard knee into his belly. “Hyu iz gonna heff to try a lot harder if hyu vants to do dot, darlink, hy only let real soldiers fok me, not leetle pet snakes followink efter ennyone who’d have dem.”

The second punch had Pythios’ full weight behind it, and Frigg felt something in his jaw crack. He used Pythios’ momentum to toss him over Frigg’s body and across the table and whirled around to meet the next blow.

Except Pythios wasn’t attacking. He was crumpled against the wall near where Frigg had thrown him, one arm still braced against the open wings of the dirigible’s exhaust fan, a hunk of yellowish bone jutting out visibly from the forearm.

Frigg’s breath caught. God damn but he hated this place. He hurried over and got an arm under Pythios’s good shoulder just as he started to sway. “Hokay dot iz nastier den hy vanted dis to get,” he admitted, helping Pythios move away from the wall and towards the door. “Let's get hyu patched op, und heff sumvun look at mine jaw too mebbee.”

Pythios made a little angry sound of pain and Frigg was suddenly actually ashamed. “Dun vorry, hyu beeg baby, hy vill schtay mit hyu der whole time. Tings vill be hokay, hyu’ll see.” Pythios just stared straight ahead. Frigg gave it up and just focused on helping him to the infirmary. This was hardly the first time he’d lied to Pythios and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

The airship’s halls were very long.

 

  
And One

The spare laboratory looked like it hadn’t had anyone in it for years. There were hundreds of the damn things, it wouldn’t surprise Frigg if this one had just been forgotten and left to rot. That would be nicely appropriate. He and Pythios and the rest of the trash no one wanted. He sprawled back against the wall and tipped up the wine to drink directly from the bottle.

Pythios had draped himself over the slab like something out of the Science Weekly’s christmas pinup run, all long sleek curves against the bright steel and leather restraints that were never made for something like them. He did a sickening twist off the edge that would have landed Frigg on his ass and swiped the bottle. “Hyu iz a barbarian und hy em disgusted mit hyu,” he said before tipping the bottle back his own self.

Frigg tossed a beaker at him. Wow that was terrible, Pythios hadn’t even had to dodge. He grabbed one of the (far fewer now) unopened wine bottles for himself and popped it open with his claws. “Hyu,” he said, gesturing pointedly up at Pythios with it and trying not to slur, “iz an un-meet-i-gated azzhole, und hy hate hyu almost as much as hy hate dis place.”

Pythios flipped over onto his back and dropped some sort of glass stick onto Frigg’s hat.. “Ja, dis place iz sheet. Still not az bad az vorking for dose boyz, efter vit Dot Voman did, may harpies eat her eyes a tousand years in hell.”

“Der Baron izn’t effen Heterodyne. Hy vould effen take doze keeds, dey might heff gotten better, or de babies might be more like deir grandpoppa.” Frigg took a long pull, enjoying the mild burn of the alcohol on this throat.

“Fok dem and fok hyu,” Pythios snarled, “At least der Baron likes us.”

Frigg froze, held up in shock so complete he wasn’t even angry yet. “Hyu prefer,” he asked very slowly, getting to his feet so he could lean over Pythios’ sprawled form, “vorking for der Baron to serving _Master Saturnus’s children_ und fulfilling hyu vows?  
  
Pythios glared. “Hy prefer,” he said as snottily as Frigg had ever heard him, “vorking for der Baron who ecktually has vork for us to vaiting around for _Master Saturnus’ murderers_ to notice ve iz dere!”

Frigg stared in absolute disbelief. “Hyu disloyal goddamned traitor,” he said, wonderingly. Probably at this angle he could snap Pythios’s neck; it’d be hard but Pythios was even drunker than he was, he could do it. Instead he got a fistful of Pythios’s hair and pulled him into a desperate kiss. Pythios’ mouth tasted like shitty wine and blood from where Frigg’s teeth were cutting his lips and home, and Frigg was pinning him by the shoulders down on the slab and pressing as hard against him as he could. “Don’t tok,” he begged, mouth moving against Pythios’ with each word and aching to bite. “Don’t say anodder goddamned ting,”

Pythios arched up to wrap him in coils and didn’t.


End file.
